


Just For Fun

by ninzz



Category: The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Clone Sex, Oral Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-05-26
Updated: 2014-05-26
Packaged: 2018-01-26 16:18:41
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,341
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1694618
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ninzz/pseuds/ninzz
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Loki thinks he could do with some entertainment, so he summons a clone to tend to his...needs.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just For Fun

**Author's Note:**

> BEHOLD! I have returned, after many months of silence. This is because I actually hate my writing and can never come up with any good ideas, but I think this is okay - it is basically a very lavish, but ashamedly short, description of a dream I had. So I'm posting it. And hey, what better thing to come back with than dirty, dirty porn?

One would think Loki is in hiding, considering all that has happened to him in the past few years. It goes without saying, however, that 'being inconspicuous' is something he does not care for. So, he is most definitely staying in this lovely Parisian hotel. There is a glimmer of recognition in the eyes of those that watch him as he passes, but, without his heavy armour, he looks almost human. In the central room of the penthouse he has appropriated, there is no sign of him, but it is evident he has spent a great deal of time there. There are books piled on just about every available surface, and it is highly likely that all of them have been read at least once. There are empty teacups and glasses not only on the table, but on the floor. 

In the large bedroom, down the hall and to the right, Loki is sitting in an ornate armchair. He has another glass pilfered from the downstairs bar in one hand, filled with whiskey. It is filled to the brim and dangerously close to spilling. 'Traditional measurements' – another thing he does not care for. There are clothes strewn across the floor, so many that most of the soft peach carpeting is obscured. More interestingly, among them are underwear items. Some of them are practical and simple, some more delicate lacy nothings that would yield and turn to shreds under a single, sure pull. It's likely that most of the latter aren’t his. There is an ornate floor-length mirror, directly across from the armchair. In it, Loki watches himself and takes a pensive sip from his glass. He glances towards the open door reflected in it, and wonders for a moment what would happen if anyone were to walk into his room right now. _They would probably be shocked at the mess _, he thinks amusedly.  
The light in the room is gauzy and pale, as is the furniture. In fact, the only dark colour in the room is Loki's hair and suit, which give the impression of ink spilled on a canvas of silks in varying shades of peach and white. He is bored, despite all the chaos that transpires in the city around him on a daily basis. He decides that he could do with a little entertainment – and pleasure. Some days he would go into the city and seek a suitable mortal to share his bed, make them scream themselves raw, but not this day. This day, he knows for sure he would prefer to pleasure himself. He sets his glass down on the bedside table and summons a clone, concentrating on making it corporeal instead of mere illusion. It is a perfect replica of himself, only it is without clothes and on its knees in front of him. It remains silent - clearly awaiting instruction, caressing Loki’s thighs with a sly, practiced little smile. _Definitely worth the extra work _, he thinks, a self-satisfied smirk painting his haughty face.____

"You know what I need," he says quietly, leaning back into a slouch.

The clone’s smile splits into a feral grin, and it moves to get more comfortable for its task. It shifts up onto its haunches and undoes Loki’s trousers. Loki looks in the mirror – he sees the clone's head move between his splayed legs and feels its hands run up his thighs. A rush of heat floods his face in anticipation, making him blush almost prettily. Of course, he would flay anyone who dared use the word 'pretty' or any variant thereof to describe him. He is not quite erect yet, so the clone lifts his cock out of its confinement and licks a thick stripe along the underside, eliciting a pleased gasp. Content with Loki's reaction, the clone repeats the action several times, waiting for him to harden fully. It doesn't take long. The clone lightly drags its teeth across the crown, using a certain soft pressure that only Loki himself would know how to use. Loki's answering moan is stuttering, and his left hand threads into the clone’s hair, stroking appreciatively. 

“Take it all,” Loki commands, one eyebrow raised in a silent challenge.

The clone flicks its eyes up to meet his – is it _mocking _him? - as it swallows him down, and that thought is quickly chased away as he throws his head back with a short groan. His head hits the back of the chair with a dull _thud. _____

The clone lavishes attention on him with its tongue for a while, running it over every vein and wrinkle, every slight bump and well. Only occasionally does it actually take any significant length into its mouth - Loki is ready to scream with frustration if it doesn't pick up the pace. After a handful of minutes it pulls away with a slick _pop _, and instead starts using its hands, allowing its jaw to rest momentarily. Loki sighs, relief flooding his senses with the pressure and tightness he so sorely wanted.  
The clone takes after its creator in that it gets bored easily – so, seeking stimulation, it takes the index and middle fingers of one hand into its mouth, sucking noisily. Loki watches, enraptured. He is well aware this indulgent display is the height of egotism, but right at this moment he couldn't care less. The clone takes the fingers out of its mouth, now dripping with saliva. Reaching back, it wastes no time in pressing two fingers inside itself. Loki's eyes glint with amusement and curiosity. The clone arches its back to allow itself to more or less _bounce _on its own hand, and Loki's mouth goes dry at the sight. When the clone pushes a third finger inside itself and they press against its own prostate, Loki spasms visibly and lets out a purely involuntary shout, as if he has just been winded. _That was new _. Breathing shakily, and somewhat embarrassed at his loss of control, his attention is now completely on what his counterpart is doing.______

“Do that again, you wicked little thing,” he tells the clone.

It complies, simultaneously taking his entire length into its mouth. Loki breathes out heavily through his nose, fighting the overwhelming rush of pleasure that threatens to bring his orgasm early. The clone's fingers searching its own insides for that spot that will make them both see stars, the wet heat of its mouth, the low groans and occasional whimpers it makes, its free hand paying some much-needed attention to its own cock.... He realises quickly that he is feeling almost everything the clone does. That makes sense. In the past, when using his clones in combat situations to confuse his enemies, he never thought twice about this possibility. It could have so many fantastic sexual applications, now that he thinks about it. He could easily waste an entire day or two just testing reactions.

Pushing that idea to the back of his mind for later reference, Loki grips his clone's hair tightly and guides its head down onto his length until its nose brushes his belly and the soft, raven thatch of hair there. He does not hold back. He knows all his own limits, after all. It appears to be no imposition on the clone, who appears as if it couldn't possibly be happier, even as choked-off sounds and slick gurgles issue from its (currently filled) throat. It is less than a minute before Loki’s hands are gripping the armrests as if they are the only thing anchoring him to the ground, and the thrusting of his hips becomes aborted. The clone squeezes his thigh, then groans lowly, encouragingly. When Loki comes – and Gods, does he – it is with a series of desperate keening breaths, the vulnerable sort he would only allow when he is by himself. Which, in the strictest sense, he is. A handful of seconds after, the clone sits back, and then it dissipates with a green shimmer as it wipes its mouth. The only sound left is Loki’s heavy breathing, and the roar of traffic outside.


End file.
